Page 83 of King Of Order

My protector, but a temporary one at that.

I sensed I’d burn if I searched for or demanded anything more from him than he would give.

He had the aura of a lone wolf who loved the hunt, the thrill of the wild, and its lonely spaces.

If I didn’t pay attention, he’d toss me out of his life and be gone like the wind once this job was done.

Still, he was fucking sexy, working the burners and frying pans with ease, his lite muscles moving, his sinewed, hair-dusted hands deft as all fuck.

He threw me a little look like he sensed I was yearning, accompanied by an upturn to his sensual mouth. He flung a dish towel over his shoulder like a practiced chef at a Michelin restaurant.

Fotto!

The aroma of the fluffy eggs, the bright peppers, and bacon crisping filled the room, wrapping me in warmth and comfort.

We were in our little bubble of peace, away from the world’s chaos.

He glanced at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned off the heat, sliding a perfect, golden frittata out of the oven.

‘Brunch is ready,’ he said, his burr like rumbling thunder, almost intimate in the quiet of the morning.

I grabbed the fresh bread from the counter, tore off a few pieces, and placed them on a platter.

We moved in sync, laying out our little spread as if we’d done this a hundred times before. Rio sliced into the frittata, the eggs fluffy and bright, each wedge bursting with color—spinach, red peppers, and the right amount of cheese.

He handed me a plate, his fingers brushing mine in the simplest, most electric gestures.

We carried our fare outside to the patio, the distant sea mingling with the birds singing from the garden.

The sun’s warmth danced across my skin, and I’d never been more at peace than in days. Rio sat beside me, our limbs tangling together as if drawn by gravity.

His arm draped over my lap as I rested my head against his shoulder; both of us relaxed and content.

Between bites of delicious goodness, we skimmed through the newspaper, passing it back and forth.

On occasion, Rio leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple or my cheek. The touch was warm and fleeting but enough to send shivers through me.

I responded by tilting my head and kissing the corner of his lips, a soft, lazy kind of affection.

The world stilled, our quiet moments punctuated by the occasional paper flip or laughter escaping amid conversation.

There was no rush, no tension—just us, the breeze and the sun warming our skin as we let the morning unfold like a slow, beautiful dream.

Chapter 18

VALERIO

Was lovemaking healing?

A panacea against the tide of greed and evil?

Perhaps, a balm in the face of grief?

It appeared to be all three.

For Chiara especially.

I reclined in my chair, my gaze ensnared by her every movement in the living room.

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